How to raise a nation
by Horses of Shadow and Night
Summary: Series of one-shots about the various countries raising their colonies/underlings. Unfortunately, there are no instruction manuals on how to raise a nation. Fluff Ahoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Got inspired to do a couple chibitalia inspired one-shots focusing on the various countries raising their colonies/underlings. There'll be a couple of England/America ones, Spain/Romano, and of course various moments with Italy/Holy Rome/Austria. This first one to kick off the series is a Austria/Italy. If anyone has any they'd like to see, I'm totally open to suggestions! I'm tempted to do a France/Seychelles one, since he sorta raised her unofficially. But, idk. Are there any chibi stories you'd like to see? Just leave a review or pm me! Thanks for reading :)**

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><p>He was woken up by a very familiar cry of distress. It was Italy. Austria sighed, running a hand over his face before forcing himself to get up and see what it was that was bothering his little underling. He'd normally leave such trivial matters to Miss Hungary, however she wouldn't be back until tomorrow and if he didn't tend to Italy himself he knew the child would never shut up.<p>

As he walked down the hall towards the child's bedroom, Holy Rome poked his head out his bedroom door. "Hey, what's wrong with Italy?" he asked, looking up at his caretaker with wide blue eyes.

"I don't know, but I'm going to deal with it now. Go back to sleep Holy Rome," Austria replied, feeling slightly annoyed but not wanting to take it out on the blonde boy since it wasn't his fault. The small empire nodded slowly, rather reluctantly, and closed his door. With that taken care of, Austria walked the rest of the way to Italy's room.

Pulling open the door, Austria was surprised to see Italy sitting up in bed, crying his eyes out. Well, her eyes, since Austria still believed Italy to be a girl at the time. At hearing someone at the door Italy blinked up at Austria, plump tears still rolling down her rosy cheeks.

"What's the matter with you Italy? Don't you know there are others sleeping in this house?"

"I'm sowrry!" the child replied through her tears, trying hastily to wipe them away. Italy cried quite frequently in Austria's presence, especially with he was being disciplined by the older nation, but lately he'd tried to hide it more and attempt to be brave like Miss Hungary.

"Well that's not good enough, you still woke the entire house with your wailing. Now tell me what your problem is before I think of a way to punish you for it!"

Italy sniffled, "I'm sowwry Mr. Austria! I…. I….. I want Miss Hungary! I had a bad dream and she always makes them go away!" he cried.

Austria felt himself beginning to lose his patience, "Well what was this bad dream about?" he demanded, wanting to get to the very bottom of it before scolding Italy, telling her she was just being childish and stupid, and ordering her to go back to sleep without another sound.

"I had a dream that you died!"

Time froze in that instant and Austria blinked, "I'm sorry?" he asked.

The child sniffled, rubbing her swollen red eyes that wouldn't cease leaking tears, "You and Miss Hungary were both fighting against a very big army, and their scary leader with glowing red eyes beat you up and then you died. And he killed Miss Hungary after that, and Holy Rome, and then he started to chase me and I ran away but then I tripped and he got me and….." the story ended there as Italy burst into a fresh wave of sobs.

Austria felt a chill run down his spine, how did she know? Austria had been trying to keep it quiet as best he could, but the war with Prussia was getting closer and closer. What if Italy had just had a vision of the future? What if Austria and Hungary's fate was to be murdered by Prussia?

He crossed the room to Italy, gathering the small child in his arms and hugging her to his chest tightly. "No, that's not going to happen, it was just a dream," he said, uncharacteristically soft. The child clung onto his nightshirt tightly, weeping heavily into the Austrian's shoulder. "Italy, I'm right here. Holy Rome is sleeping just down the hall, and Miss Hungary will be back soon. So stop your crying, you have no reason to cry."

"B-B-But….."

"No buts! Now, I want you to go back to bed and I don't want to hear another peep from you. Understand?"

Italy shook her head, nuzzling his face into Austria's neck, "I can't do that, I'm scared."

"Of what now?"

"Bad dreams."

Austria sighed, before adjusting his hold on Italy and carrying the child out of the room and down the hall. By now Italy had calmed down substantially, and blinked up at his big brother in confusion, "Where are we going Mr. Austria?"

"I'm making you go to sleep."

He walked them into the music room, lighting a candle beside the piano and sitting Italy down on the bench beside him. Without another word he began playing, Chopin of course, but not Nocturne. Instead he played Berceuse, a gentle lullaby that would surely cause the little Italian to fall asleep. At first he didn't believe it would work, as Italy sat up attentively to listen to him play the song, however just as Austria began to get lost in the music he caught Italy yawning out of the corner of his eye.

He was temporarily taken away from the music when he felt the little maid rest her head on his side about three quarters of the way through the song. Austria didn't stop though, ever the performer, he played on despite losing his audience until the song was over.

"Play anoder one," a faint voice said from his lap, which Italy was using as a pillow. Sighing, Austria decided to just play whatever came to his head until the child finally fell asleep. He was so close! Just one more song and then they'd all be able to go to sleep! This time he ignored Italy completely, needing his full focus to be on the music when he was just playing songs out of his head.

As he played, he closed his eyes, but had to be careful not to fall asleep at the piano. How silly would he look if Miss Hungary returned tomorrow to find him asleep at the piano with Italy? He'd be so embarrassed! So the second composition he played was decidedly shorter than the Chopin, and as the final notes faded into silence, he knew he'd finally succeeded. Italy made not a sound, and his deep, even breaths were added proof that the child was finally asleep.

Being as careful as he could, Austria put out the candle before picking Italy back up and carrying him back to his room. When he got there he tuck her in, gently brushing a stray auburn lock away from her face. He stood there for a long time, the things the little Italian had said sinking in and scaring him. Would France swoop in and take Italy and Holy Rome if something happened to him? Despite how poorly he treated the two children, he loved them very much, and losing them in that way would break his heart.

Bending down, Austria placed a feather-light kiss on Italy's forehead before leaving to return back to his own room. Austria never acknowledged the events of that night to anyone, not even when Miss Hungary asked him about it after Italy told her how he'd soothed her. However Austria has never forgotten, and sometimes late at night when he's alone and can't rest, he'll play Chopin's Lullaby and remember a little auburn-haired child who somehow managed to worm his way into the Austrian's stone cold heart.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where's Sealand, Mr. Sweden? I thought you were going to spend the day together?" Finland asked, surprised to see the intimidating blonde sitting alone at the dining room table. The country in question looked up, before glancing over at the living room door through which Sealand was clearly visible, playing video games.

"I tri'd, h' d'n't w'nt to go f'r a w'lk. C'n't g't h'm off th' comput'r," he replied, frustration and a bit of sadness creeping into his voice. And it was true, Sweden had been trying all morning to find an activity for the two of them to do together. However Sealand had said, 'After this t.v. program papa,' or 'Just one more time I know I'll beat it soon!' every time. Eventually Sweden had given up, and dejectedly sat himself in the dining room to watch his adopted son from a distance and wonder what he was doing wrong.

He didn't believe spanking or punishing Sealand would solve anything, though he was well aware that many other nations would certainly think so. The difference though was that Sweden was not raising Sealand as his colony, his underling, or his servant. Sweden was raising the lad as his son, and despite his cold and intimidating exterior, he loved the boy as much as he loved Finland, with all his being. He could never bring himself to harm either of them, so even when Finland said he wasn't his wife, and even when Sealand wouldn't play with him, he couldn't get angry with them. He certainly would never resort to violence against them in order to get his way!

So he sat, and wondered just what he was supposed to do to get Sealand to come outside to play with him, or spend time with him. Finland sat down next to his 'partner' and offered a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you try playing video games with him? Who knows? You might think it's fun! And then after you play a few games with him you can tell him to come outside with you since you played his games"

Sweden gazed into the living room at Sealand again before nodding, "Y' alw'ys g've such g'd adv'ce," he said before standing up and heading determinedly into the next room. Sealand didn't even look up from the game he was playing on the computer as Sweden stood directly behind him. Finally the swede put a hand on the boys head, ruffling his bright blonde hair in order to get his attention.

"Stop that!" Sealand yelped, immediately reaching up to protect his hair, though he smiled as he did so.

"Wh't's th't?" Sweden asked him, indicating the game.

Sealand turned around to face his papa, glancing over his shoulder at the computer when his papa asked about it. "It's the newest super cool horror game! It's called Slender! It's really scary! I've only been able to get 4 pages, but I bet by the end of the day I'll be able to get all 8!"

Sweden gazed steadily at it, it didn't look scary to him. "C'n I try?" he asked.

The young boy had trouble hiding his delighted surprise, and eagerly pulled up a chair and offered it to his papa. "Yeah! Maybe you'll get more pages than me! You're big and scary so you can scare the slenderman away!"

The tall man sat down in front of the computer, and clicked to start the game. The instructions seemed easy enough, all he had to do was find 8 pages. The mouse controlled where he looked, and the keyboard controlled where he walked. How difficult could this petty game of Sealand's be? Suddenly Sealand leaped across the room, turning off the lights and closing the door before returning to his seat. The shades had already been drawn earlier, so now the room was completely dark aside from the glow of the computer screen. "It makes it more scary!" Sealand insisted, sitting on the edge of his seat eagerly as though waiting for something and swinging his legs like he always did. Sweden wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to happen, or what he was waiting for, but he couldn't deny the slight anxiousness he felt over it.

It didn't take long for him to locate the first page. However when he picked it up a strange, low thundering noise began rumbling from the speakers, sending a chill down the normally composed country's spine. He furrowed his brow in concentration, determined not to let the game get the best of him, and went on to locate the next 3 pages with relative ease, never once coming in contact with this 'slenderman'.

"Wow! You're really good! I've never gotten this many pages before! I bet you'll get all 8 pages!" Sealand said as Sweden picked up the 5th page in a dark, cement tunnel. He glanced over at his son, feelingly admittedly uneasy with the combination of playing the game in the dark, the sound effects in the background, and the anticipation over seeing the monster who was supposedly stalking him, according to the micronation.

He began guiding his character towards a very suspicious building, and Sealand gripped his sleeve anxiously, "Don't go in there papa! You'll get trapped!"

"Alr'ght," Sweden merely replied, going around the building instead and reaching an area of rusty tanks just as his flashlight began to die. He suddenly got a very cold feeling in his stomach as he picked up the 6th page, and grew tense. However he made certain not to show Sealand he was afraid of this game. He'd almost beaten it! All he needed to do was find the last 2 pa-

Before he could finish the thought a loud sound came from the game as Slenderman suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The screen quickly fizzled and blinked, showing that Slenderman had caught and killed him before going dark. However Sweden never saw that, for at the loud noise and sudden appearance of the monster, he'd screamed and flipped back in his chair with so much force he nearly knocked the computer off the desk. Sealand had jumped in fear himself not only at the game but from hearing his brave, stony-faced papa scream. It took him a moment to recover from his shock before he quickly knelt down beside his papa, who was trembling and moaning lightly on the floor with his eyes screwed shut.

"Papa! Are you ok?" he asked, shaking his shoulder urgently.

Sweden didn't respond to Sealand, though he would have if he could have. He was moaning not only from his fright but also because he had knocked the wind out of himself when he fell. When he was finally able to inhale, he looked up at Sealand, meeting the boy's worried gaze, "No m're of th' g'mes t'day," he managed to get out. Sealand nodded readily in agreement before helping his papa sit up and hugging him tightly.

Though still in slight discomfort, and suffering shock from the horrible game he'd just played, he hugged Sealand back.

"Papa?"

"Ya?"

"I'm sorry my game scared you so bad," Sealand said, burying his face in Sweden's shoulder.

Sweden couldn't help but smile a little at that, "S'alr'ght," he merely replied, rubbing the boy's back comfortingly, because it was all right. It was just fine, because they'd both been scared together hadn't they? In all honesty, Sweden felt more guilty for startling Sealand so badly.

Suddenly the lights came on as Finland came into the room, looking at the pair wide-eyed, "I heard someone scream, is everything ok in here?"

Sealand looked up from his papa's shoulder at the shorter blonde, "The game was really scary Finny! You wanna play?" he asked.

Finland chuckled, drawing up the shades to reveal a beautiful spring day, "No thanks. I have things to do. What are the two of you planning now?"

Before Sweden could answer Sealand piped up excitedly as he noticed how sunny it was outside. "It's really nice outside! Can we go play futball Papa? Or go for a walk? Please?"

"Ya, th't s'nds good," Sweden replied. Sealand stood up, bending down to straighten his papa's glasses that had been knocked askew before running to put on his shoes. "M'ke s're you p't a coat 'n. 't's ch'lly!" Sweden called after him, readjusting his glasses himself.

When Sealand was out of the room, Finland offered a hand to Sweden to help him off the floor. "Are you ok Mr. Sweden? I've never heard you that scared before," Finland said, looking up at him knowingly.

The swede nodded slowly, "'m ok. St'rtl'd me 's all." Truthfully he wasn't feeling very ok, his body ached and he was mentally worn out. His emotions were also rather frayed, but he could never confess that to his wife or son. He was Sweden, the stoic. He could overcome this, it was only a game. Slenderman wasn't even a real thing! What bothered him most about it though was just how strongly he'd reacted to it. Finland was right, he'd never been that scared before. Why then? Why over a game?

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he pulled on his coat and took Sealand's hand as the boy pulled him into the backyard with the futball under his arm. They spent the rest of the day outside together, playing futball and laughing about how scared and silly they'd been until it began to grow dark out and Finland called them back inside. He didn't have to call them twice either, they didn't have a flashlight and who knew what was lurking out there in the dark! As Sweden carried a drowsy Sealand into the house, he decided that he would have to find a way to get the boy outside. A way that didn't involve horror games! The very next day after the incident, he invented cardboardtain.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Sweden translator:**

**"I tried, he didn't want to go for a walk. Can't get him off the computer."**

**"You always give such good advice."**

**"What's that?"**

**"Can I try?"**

**"Alright"**

**"No more of the games today."**

**"It's alright."**

**"Ya, that sounds good."**

**"Make sure you put a coat on, it's chilly."**

**"I'm ok. Startled me is all." **

**This chapter was inspired by Pewdiepie, who is of course hails from Sweden. I had a little trouble with Sweden, his character is kinda difficult to write because he's not very expressive and it's difficult to write a swedish accent. But, I tried. I butchered it, but that's ok. Sweden is one of my favorite characters, but again, he's very difficult for me to write so don't expect to see a ton of him and Sealand in the future (Even tho I luvs them). **

**Next chapter is looking to be Romano/Spain centered, however I just thought of a really good one for Holy Rome/Austria so we'll have to see. As always, I'm open to any suggestions. Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you guys like this so much. Thanks again for reading :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Idk why but this story kinda ended up, darker, than what I intended. It still has a happy, fluffy ending though so don't worry! This is a France/Canada story, because someone asked about having France give Canada Kuma. So this is about that. England and America are also in it quite a bit. Um, otherwise, that's about it. Thanks for the reviews and favs everybody! Also thanks for reading! :)**

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><p>Any other day, England would have ignored France pounding on his door, but there was something about today that seemed different. The Frenchman wasn't just pounding on the door, he was calling out for him to answer in such a desperate tone even young America noticed it.<p>

"Mr. Britain? I think something's wrong with Mr. France," the little blonde lad said from his place on the floor where he was building a pair of towers with some blocks.

England closed the book he'd been reading and stood, "I daresay you're right, America," he replied as he went to the door to answer it.

He was initially shocked when he opened the door, but then again he shouldn't have been surprised. France stood there, a soaking wet bundle in his arms. "Angleterre! You must help me!"

Not thinking twice about it, he ushered France in and shut the door behind him. "All right frog, what's the matter?"

"It is Canada! I, I wasn't watching him but I only had my back turned for a minute I swear! 'e wandered out onto a frozen pond and fell through the ice! He won't wake up! I tried everything to get him up but he won't! 'e is not dead is he?" he asked.

England peaked into the wet bundle France had cradled tightly against his chest. The little colony was pale and frigid, but at least he was breathing. "He's not dead, but he will be if you get him some help. Give him to me and I'll take care of him."

"No! He's mine!"

"I'm not taking him permanently you twat!"

"Well how am I supposed to know that? You're always stealing things that belong to me!"

"Don't be moronic you'll kill him!"

"I will not!"

"You've already failed as a big brother by letting this happen in the first place!"

"No I have not! Canada loves me! At least my colony eats real food and not that British slop you force feed your colony!"

"I'll have you know that America loves my cooking and he loves me so sod off! At least I don't let my colony fall through thin ice!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

"This is the fault of a wanker! It's your fault!"

As the two countries continued to bicker America wandered in from the living room, wondering what all the commotion was about. He stood in the doorway and watched as the two grown-up countries argued, when he noticed France was holding his brother.

"Canada!" he said cheerfully, trotting over to France and tugging on his coat. "Mr. France, can I play with Canada?"

France's hold on the dripping wet child tightened, "No you may not! 'e is very sick!"

America furrowed his brow, "Sick? What's that?"

"Nevermind America, go up to your room," England said, trying to get the young boy out of the way. He also didn't want America there if something, happened, to Canada.

"But-"

"Please just go."

Pouting, America trudged up the stairs. The two countries waited until they heard his bedroom door shut before resuming their conversation.

France swallowed back a lump in his throat, "I know it's my fault Angleterre," he said, defeated. "Please just fix him."

He held the child out for the other country to take, but England just shook his head, "No, I'll help you but you need to learn to start taking adequate care of your own colony. Come upstairs, we need to get him out of those wet clothes and get him warm."

The two countries headed up the stairs to the guest bedroom in silence. Once shown in, England went to find some old nightgowns of America's while France began carefully stripping the wet clothing off his colony. When England returned he wordlessly handed France the clothing before leaving again to get some extra blankets. France dressed Canada before tucking him into the bed and sitting beside him.

"You only turned your back for a minute?" England asked as he walked back in with a pile of heavy blankets and began to lay them on Canada carefully.

"Just a minute. We'd gone for a walk, and I saw this beautiful girl. You don't know how rare it is to see a beautiful girl in Canada! It's so cold and remote up there. So, I started to talk with her because I was certain that she was probably lonely and wouldn't oppose to coming home with me. Canada must have wandered off to look at something when my back was turned."

"Do you realize just how irresponsible you sound?"

"You think I don't know that?" France snapped defensively, before burying his face in his hands. England felt uncomfortable, and turned away from France so he didn't have to watch as the normally obnoxious blonde began to weep into his hands. He hadn't seen the frog so upset since Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, and it had taken him years to get over it since he blamed himself.

Lighting a candle at Canada's bedside, England muttered that he would be back to check in on them later before leaving and closing the door behind him. France glanced over at little Canada and took one of his hands, rubbing it between his larger ones in order to warm it. "Je suis désolé, petit frère," he murmured gently.

For once he did not think about how cute Canada was, or how must fun he would be when he got older. Instead he thought of Joan, and how much she would have loved the little blonde colony. He'd been such a fool, he wanted America so badly he neglected to take care of the child he did have. "Je ferai juste à côté de vous. Je promets. Je vais trouver un cadeau pour vous, et ce sera d'améliorer les choses."

He sat all night with Canada, cooing to the little colony and stroking his hair gently. For the most part the pair were left undisturbed, England only came back one final time before he went to bed, to ask if France needed anything. The blonde had shook his head no silently, and kept his vigil as the house went silent and he remained the only one awake.

The next day though Canada's condition improved slightly, he was very sick. At some point in the morning he blinked open his lavender eyes, looked feverishly up at France, before beginning to cry and wail at the top of his lungs. France's initial reaction was wanting to tell Canada to shut up, since his cries hurt his ears, but instead he patiently hushed Canada and attempted to calm him down. He bundled him in a few blankets and cradled him against his chest, singing gentle lullabies to him in French to pass the time and get the young colony to quiet down.

It was getting close to evening when the door cracked open and America poked his head into the room curiously. "Mr. France?" he asked.

France looked up tiredly from where he sat, "Bonjour America," he said quietly.

"Um, I had a question."

The older country nodded to him, and America came into the room all the way, closing the door behind him. "I was wondering, um, if Canada was going to be ok."

"Oui, il va être beau."

America blinked up at him in confusion, "So….. that's a yes?" he asked.

France nodded and America smiled, "Awesome! That means he can play right?"

"Not for a while, non."

"Oh, ok."

America was just about to leave when France called him back over, "If you wouldn't mind getting your big brother for me, that would be very helpful."

America nodded, "I can do that. He's just doing boring paperwork anyway," he said. He left the room quickly after that, intent on fulfilling his mission as fast as possible. England was coming in the room hardly 5 minutes later.

"Angleterre, I need you to….." he trailed off, unsure how to exactly phrase what he wanted from the brit.

He'd been thinking about what to do in order to make it up to Canada, and he'd finally come up with an idea. However it would require England to use his black magic, something that scared the Frenchman and made him wary of actually requesting this particular item. What if England make a mistake and something went wrong?

"What frog? I don't have all day I was in the middle of writing a very important letter!"

"I need you to create something for me with your magic!"

England was totally caught off guard by that request and stared at France in shock. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me!"

They stared at each other for a long time before England cleared his throat, "What would you have me create?"

"A companion, someone to watch Canada when I'm not there. Someone to be his friend and talk to him. But not a person, something he can carry around with him. In his land they have these white bears, perhaps one of those….."

England was speechless, France, the frog, wanted him to create a talking bear for his colony? He wasn't exactly sure he if could do it, but he'd certainly try. "I'll try."

France didn't see England again for days. America would poke in occasionally to visit and hear a story or two when France was trying to entertain Canada, but otherwise it was just the blonde country and his colony. Canada improved more and more every day, and by the end of the week was almost completely back to normal. Except for one thing, the boy wouldn't speak.

He would look up at France, and nod or shake his head in understanding. So he wasn't deaf, but he wouldn't utter a word! France began to worry that he'd broken his colony, or that the boy was punishing him for being a bad big brother! It was true that Canada had always been the quieter of the two brothers, but he would always answer France when he was spoken to!

By the end of the second week, Canada was running around and playing in the house with America, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders since he still felt cold, but otherwise he was completely normal. France took the time the brothers spent playing together to rest and make up for all the beauty sleep he'd missed. Each time he fell asleep, he hoped when he woke up Canada would be talking, asking him questions or telling him what he wanted for dinner. However not even Canada's brother could get him to talk, which frustrated America to no end.

"Come on Canada! You gotta tell me what game you want to play!" America said.

Canada pointed to the board game he wanted and America sighed out of exasperation, "Why won't you say anything? Did being sick make you stupid or something?"

The boy quickly shook his head no and America crossed his arms, "Then prove it! Say something!"

Once again Canada shook his head and America shrugged, "Whatever. I'm totally gonna destroy you in checkers though!"

Finally, the day before France was going to bring Canada back home, England reappeared from whatever cave he'd been hiding in. He looked absolutely exhausted, but proud of the work he'd done.

Canada and America looked up from their place near the fire as England walked in the room, holding something behind his back. "Canada, I've made you a little parting gift to show how glad I am that you've recovered. You must promise to take very good care of it, and if you do that it'll always take good care of you."

Curiously, Canada nodded his head and looked up at the other country as he pulled a fluffy white polar bear cub with a bow around its neck out from behind his back. He set it on the floor in front of Canada, and America's eyes went huge at it, "Wow! That's so cool! Can you make me one Mr. Britain? Pretty please?"

England ruffled America's hair, "Perhaps if you're good we'll see for Christmas, all right?"

France, who had been sitting on the couch watching the two boys play together smiled at England as the other country flopped onto the couch beside him. "Thank you," he mouthed, for once truly grateful for his frenemy's help.

Canada sat and stared at the bear in wonder, before pulling it over to him and hugging it against his chest. He smiled at how warm it was, and hugged it tighter.

"Who're you?" it suddenly asked, looking up at him.

The boy looked surprised, and held the bear out in front of him to once again examine it. Polar bears didn't usually talk.

Everyone sat on the edges of their seats as once again, the bear asked, "Who're you?"

For a moment, no one thought the colony would answer. France sighed sadly and England put a hand on his back to offer a small bit of support. America frowned at Canada, and looked as though he wanted to say something or just answer the bear himself, but one stern look from England kept him from saying a word.

Blinking, the French colony suddenly opened his mouth, and to France's great relief and delight, answered the question in his soft and beautifully familiar voice, "I'm Canada."


	4. Chapter 4

Spain had been gone longer than he'd intended, but that only made it that much sweeter to finally be home.

The first thing he'd done when arriving back was strip off his armor and dirty, bloody clothes and take a bath. The warm water had felt so good to his aching muscles, he'd nearly fallen asleep. Spain had gotten pretty beaten up, but he knew he would hardly know it in a few days after a few days of resting. Then once he'd healed, he would be preparing for his next voyage, where victory was certain this time!

After his bath he'd dressed and got something to eat since it was growing late. It wasn't until about halfway through his meal he realized that something was amiss. It was quiet, too quiet. Where was Romano? Any other day he would hear him by now, whether the kid was mouthing off at him for being hungry or whether he was knocking over a bookcase or something else, his presence was always made known. But not this time, Spain immediately felt worried.

"I saw him when you arrived, I'm sure he's around so I wouldn't worry too much about him," Belgium told him when she noticed the concern etched on his features.

He took a final bite out of his meal before nodding to her, "You're right, I worry for nothing. Gracias."

After dinner he poured himself a glass of wine and made his way outside. It was a beautiful summer night, with the stars bright in the sky and a gentle breeze that ruffled his damp hair ever so slightly. Behind his house he had a small hammock, which he enjoyed taking siestas in when it wasn't too hot out. It was also the perfect place to stargaze, which is what he found himself doing as he nursed his glass.

He only looked at the stars when he had a lot on his mind, which was usually right after he returned from his travels and when he'd had a glass of wine. He found himself thinking about Romano, and wondering where he was. Was he hiding from him? Was he angry or upset with him for some reason? He normally didn't take this long to make his grand appearance. Spain sighed before finishing the glass of wine and setting the empty glass on a nearby table.

How long he was out there, he didn't know, but suddenly someone was climbing into the hammock and perching themselves on Spain's stomach, causing the older nation to wince. He looked up to see a pair of bright green eyes, very similar to his own, staring back at him.

"Oh, hola Romano," he said, only a little surprised by the kid's sudden appearance. He was getting less clumsy and was able to sneak up and surprise him easier now. When Spain had first obtained Romano, he could hear the kid coming from a mile away. That was clearly not the case anymore, and it slightly saddened the Spaniard.

Romano merely blinked in response to Spain's greeting, before looking up at the sky without a word. Spain wanted to say something, maybe ask Romano a question on how things were while he was gone, but found he couldn't find the right words. Instead he studied Romano while the boy was seemingly oblivious. Other things had changed besides the child's newly acquired stealth.

He'd grown a bit, that was for sure. At least half an inch, maybe even a little more. He'd also lost a bit of his baby chubbiness, but his face itself hadn't changed much. His eyes, once amber, had been slowly transitioning to green the past few months. Now they were almost entirely green, like Spain's. He'd heard that hazel eyes could change from brown to green, but the change still fascinated him. Romano's hair had also been cut recently, most likely by Belgium, who was the only person he allowed to cut his hair besides Spain himself.

When he'd taken in just about every inch of Romano's small frame, he looked back up at the sky and stared up at the stars. Romano may have changed, but the Spanish sky had not. The stars were all exactly the same as he remembered them, and he found it comforting to know that no matter how much his little Italian changed, some things never would.

After a short time Romano yawned and reached up to rub the tiredness from his eyes. It was very late now, and a responsible hermano would have taken him to bed. But Spain was too comfortable to get up, so he instead pretended not to notice Romano's drooping eyes.

Eventually Romano decided to put himself to sleep, and lowered himself down so that he lay on his stomach, his head resting on Spain's chest. He took small fistfuls of Spain's shirt in his hands, as though to make sure the big stupid bastard didn't go anywhere while he was sleeping, which was fine with Spain. He didn't intend to go anywhere for a little while.

Reaching up, he ran his fingers through Romano's dark hair before placing a hand on his back, rubbing small circles on it comfortingly to further lull the little one to sleep. Any other time Romano would have headbutted him or kicked him for even touching him, but not tonight. Tonight Romano clung tighter to Spain, unwilling to let him go anywhere and not minding his gentle touch.

"Bienvenido a casa idiota," Romano muttered sleepily.

Smiling, Spain placed a kiss on the top of Romano's head, "Buenas noches hermanito, te amo."

"Te amo," Romano replied under his breath, almost inaudibly. Spain heard it anyway, and the words made him feel incredibly happy inside.

When Romano was finally asleep, Spain closed his own eyes and began to drift off. Tomorrow Romano would be back to being the spoiled brat he always was, and it would be as though this moment hadn't happened. Only in reality, it had happened, many times before tonight, and was certain to happen many times in the future. It had always been the same; Spain would leave, and return to a Romano unable to express just how happy he was to have the Spaniard back.

So instead they'd merely sit together in silence, staring at the stars and being comforted by simply being together. Romano always held onto him in one way or another, as though that would stop Spain from leaving ever again. The first few times Romano had even cried when Spain returned, hugging his legs tightly until the older country bent to his level and picked him up, hugging him tightly and rubbing their cheeks together. Now Romano was simply withdrawn, and quietly sought comfort from Spain upon his return. Spain would often take advantage of the moment, cuddling Romano and stroking his hair, things the kid normally never permitted. Except on return day.

Perhaps someday Romano's clinging would work, Spain thought to himself, for each time he spent a tender moment with Romano it became harder and harder to leave again. Well, then maybe next time he'd just have to take Romano with him! Because nothing, not even his beloved little Romano, was going to stop him from conquering the seas!

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><p><strong>It's kinda hard to write Romano and Spain fluff, mostly because of how much Romano pretends to hate Spain. So, that's why this story is the shortest so far. Perhaps in the future I'll be able to write a better story for these two. Next story is looking to be either AmericaEngland or HRE/Austria. I'm also still open to suggestions! Thanks so much for the reviews and favorites! And thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

Austria was never an outdoors type of person, never wanting to participate in activities that were very strenuous. Holy Rome certainly enjoyed the sunshine though. The little blonde spent much of his time outside, swimming in the stream or walking through the meadows near the house. However there were some things that he could only do with someone accompanying him, and riding the Lipizzaner stallions was one of those things.

Despite that, if there was one thing Holy Rome knew he could convince his Austrian caretaker to do with him, it was go riding. Truthfully Austria didn't mind riding because it took place indoors. He was wary of the stallions sometimes, but he had his own personal mount so it didn't take much persuasion on Holy Rome's part to get Austria to agree to take him riding. Besides, the horses themselves were not all that tall.

Today was no exception, and Holy Rome peeked into the room where Austria was sitting doing paperwork to make sure his guardian was in a good mood. He didn't seem to be in a bad mood, which was already a good sign. It took more work to convince him if he was irritated about something. Walking into the room quietly, he padded over to Austria's side and tugged on his coat to get his attention. Austria jumped slightly, startled by the little boy's sudden appearance, "Holy Rome don't sneak up on me!"

"Sorry Mr. Austria," Holy Rome quickly replied, lowering his head and glancing up at Austria with an apologetic look.

Austria sighed before turning in his seat to face him, "It's all right. What do you need?"

"I want to go riding today."

"I have a lot of paperwork to do today Holy Rome," Austria said. He always said that.

Holy Rome swallowed, feigning disappointment, "But, we haven't gone in such a long time. Please Mr. Austria? It will only be for a little while!" He looked up at the Austrian, making his eyes as big as possible. Miss Hungary had told him that Austria was actually a sucker for a sweet face, and he knew from experience she was right.

Austria turned back to his paperwork for a moment, but glanced down at Holy Rome. How could he resist those big blue eyes? Besides, the boy was right, they hadn't gone in quite some time. Getting away from the paperwork would be good for his head, and he missed the white stallion that was waiting for him at the Spanish Riding School.

"I expect you to be at the door and dressed in exactly half an hour," Austria began to say, but Holy Rome was already beaming and running for the door before he could even finishing, saying 'thank you' at least three times over his shoulder as he rushed out.

Austria also went and changed for the event, putting on the proper riding attire. The riding school was very strict about uniforms, and Austria completely supported them. It looked so much better when they were all dressed the same. Secretly he also believed he looked quite dashing in his uniform, but he'd never actually admit that.

The uniform was a brown tailcoat with a black hat, white pants and gloves, and tall black boots. He also carried a riding crop, though he rarely used it on his horse. Once he was ready, he headed to the door where Holy Rome was waiting. The boy was dressed in the same uniform as him, but the chubby little empire looked a bit silly in such grown-up attire. Miss Hungary had actually sewn the uniform for Holy Rome, since there was no uniform in existence that was small enough to fit him. Children didn't ride the big stallions, which was only one of the reasons Austria had to accompany him when he went riding.

Together they went to the riding school, Holy Rome practically bursting with excitement as they made their way to the stable area. One of the master riders was there preparing his own mount, and greeted the pair as they came in. "Good morning Austria, you'll find Pippin in his stall. The grooms just saw to him a little while ago so he's ready to be saddled. He should be very quiet today, they had a very intense training session with him two days ago trying to perfect his capriole." Nodding to the man and thanking him, Austria lead Holy Rome down the barn isle to where his horse was being stabled.

The white stallion had been hand selected by Austria himself, and he rode the horse not only in the classical settling of the school, but also into battle. In his time as a country, Austria had ridden many horses, but Pippin was by far his favorite mount. The horse was incredibly docile for a stallion and safe to put even a small child like Holy Rome on. He was certainly not the tallest, but he was an energetic and willing worker, which was something Austria appreciated.

Greeting the white horse, Austria made quick work of tacking him up. Holy Rome stood at the door to the stall, reaching up for the stallion in an attempt to touch the horse's nose. Pippin was familiar with the blonde, and pricked his ears as the boy called his name, but he didn't lower his head to the lad. It was as though the horse were too proud to put his head down for a mere child, even if they were an empire. Once the horse was finally tacked, Austria took Holy Rome's hand and the stallion's reins and together the trio walked to the magnificent arena where the horses worked and performed for the royal family.

There were other horses being worked in the arena when they entered, but nobody paid any mind to the two countries as they entered. Austria saluted the portrait overlooking the arena, as was tradition, and he gently nudged Holy Rome to do the same. Once they'd done that, he turned to the little blonde, "Would you like to ride first or shall I?" he asked.

Holy Rome reached up the saddle, "I want to ride first!" he insisted. Bending down, Austria easily lifted the empire and rested him on his hip, leading him in front of Pippin and allowing the boy to finally pet the horse's nose and face. The stallion sniffed at Holy Rome, nuzzling him in the face almost affectionately before snorting and turning away. Austria walked to the stallion's side and tossed the boy into the saddle, which practically swallowed him. Holy Rome's legs didn't even reach the bottom of the saddle flaps. Austria hadn't bothered putting stirrups on, knowing that no stirrup leather would be short enough.

When Holy Rome was settled, the lad took a fistful of Pippin's mane while Austria took the reins, standing at the stallion's shoulder and preparing to work him in hand as though the empire weren't even in the saddle. He was too small to control a stallion by himself, especially with his lack of leg. They began first by walking around the arena a few times, not only to get Pippin warmed up but also to prepare Holy Rome. The normally serious blonde smiled brightly at the master riders as they rode past, watching them as they performed fancy movements he couldn't even pronounce the names of.

Austria kept himself focused on the stallion beside him, rather than the other riders. Controlling the horse was a lot like playing the piano in his mind, the tiniest of details meant the most. Touching Pippin on the shoulder after a lap around the large arena, the horse began a trot. Holy Rome's grip tightened as he was nearly bounced out of the saddle and Austria turned to check on him, "Just relax Holy Rome."

"I don't want to fall."

"I won't let you fall, I promise."

Tapping the stallion's hindquarters, Pippin immediately slowed to a halt and trotted in place, performing a perfect piaffe. Holy Rome sat up a little taller in the saddle as he tried to copy the master riders performing the same movement nearby. Austria couldn't help smile a little, someday Holy Rome would be an excellent rider. Perhaps even better than Austria himself.

Releasing the stallion from the piaffe, he allowed the stallion to stop and stretch his neck for a moment. Austria also wanted a chance to catch his breath.

"Mr. Austria, can we do that?" the child asked suddenly, pointing to a rider who was teaching a young horse to levade between two posts in the center of the ring. Austria gave a small smile and nodded to the blonde before gathering the reins and asking Pippin into a piaffe, preparing him for the levade.

"Sit forward slightly Holy Rome, nice and tall for me," he said as he collected the reins. Holy Rome eagerly did as he was asked, and Austria reached out to fix his posture slightly before once again focusing on the stallion. Pippin pranced in place patiently, and turned his ears in his master's direction when he began to ask for the levade. Arching his neck gracefully, the stallion shifted his weight to his haunches and picked up his front legs obediently, tucking them tightly under himself. Holy Rome beamed, smiling so brightly it was almost blinding. Austria rarely saw the boy so happy, and it was a pleasant change.

Once the stallion came down Austria released the stallion and allowed him to stand relaxed once more, patting the white horse's neck. Holy Rome patted Pippin's neck too, still smiling brightly. "Might I ride now?" Austria asked, and Holy Rome's smile quickly vanished as he clutched to the stallion's white mane.

"Can't we walk around a little longer? Please?"

Austria sighed in slight annoyance, "A little longer," he said. They made nearly 25 laps around the arena at various gaits and performed the levade at least 7 more times before Holy Rome finally allowed Austria to ride for himself.

Austria reached up for Holy Rome, and pulled the boy onto the ground, leading him to the side where he would be out of the way. "You stand here Holy Rome, and don't even think about moving a single step away from this spot." The empire nodded in understanding before Austria mounted up and trotted to the outside of the arena. It didn't matter to him that he had no stirrups, his leg and seat were surprisingly solid. Other countries would probably envy his riding ability, but the fact was only Prussia and Switzerland had ever seen him ride, and that was in battle. Riding on the battlefield, and riding in this context, were two entirely different things.

Asking Pippin into a canter, he asked the horse to perform in time to the symphony he could hear playing in his head. He enjoyed when the orchestra was playing for the horses as they performed, but here in training they were absent, and Austria had to come up with the music for himself. It was like a dance, he and the white stallion, performing canter pirouettes as though they'd known how to do it their whole lives. He noticed Holy Rome out of the corner of his eye, blue eyes full of admiration as he watched Austria bring Pippin down into a piaffe easily.

Now that Austria felt more comfortable in the saddle, he asked for a levade. Pippin complied swiftly, and Austria tried to hide a smile at the accomplishment. He was not brave enough to perform the airs above the ground usually, but today he didn't mind showing off for Holy Rome. When he rounded near the boy again, he asked Pippin for a capriole. The stallion seemed a little confused at first, arching his neck and rocking in place. Austria dared not take a fistful of the stallion's mane in fear of throwing the horse off, and instead kept a firm seat as the stallion finally leapt into the air, kicking out his back legs as he tried to imitate a Pegasus in flight. At least, that's what Austria always imagined.

Finally, he asked for one tempi's, allowing Pippin to skip across the arena. It looked easy to Holy Rome, but to Austria it was far more difficult to ask for than any air above the ground. He wasn't sure why, he just had a difficult time with it. Pippin was a good horse though, and though Austria was sometimes sloppy with his aids, the horse seemed to understand what was being asked and performed it. Once they'd circled around the arena a final time Austria slowed the horse down to a walk, rubbing his neck affectionately and praising the stallion.

They halted in front of Holy Rome, the arena had cleared out except for the two of them. Which was why Austria had absolutely no problem reaching down, grabbing Holy Rome by the arm, and hoisting him up onto the stallion, sitting him in front. The master riders would never approve of that, but it was Austria's Lipizzaner and he could do as he pleased with him.

Together, they rode around the arena, Austria even allowing Holy Rome to hold the reins for a brief moment. They performed all the same movements, however the blonde seemed more comfortable with Austria supporting him. Austria wouldn't let him fall, he'd promised.

And he kept his promise. Even through a capriole Austria did not let his small charge fall. Letting Pippin relax, they allowed him to walk around arena on a loose rein to cool off. "Pippin's a good horse," Holy Rome said, leaning back and looking up at Austria.

The dark haired man smiled, "He is a good horse."

"He's the very best horse in the whole Roman Empire! He's the prettiest and nicest horse out of all the ones I saw today. We can come back and ride him again soon can't we?"

"I think he'd like that very much."

Holy Rome patted the horse's neck and smiled, "You hear that Pippin? I'm going to come back and ride you! Someday I'll ride you all by myself too. You're my very favorite horse in the whole wide world! Maybe someday I'll bring Italy too, she would love you because you're so gentle."

As they dismounted the white stallion for a final time, Holy Rome looked happy and bright, something Austria secretly wished for the little empire all the time. Unfortunately though, it wasn't to be.

After they'd untacked and rubbed the stallion down until his coat gleamed whiter than freshly fallen snow, Austria picked Holy Rome up and allowed him to say goodnight. The boy offered the stallion a sugar cube, which Pippin ate daintily off the boy's hand as though he were eating off the most delicate china. Then Austria allowed Holy Rome to hug the horse and stroke him, even press a chaste kiss to his nose as he bid him farewell. It was the last time Holy Rome ever saw the Lipizzaner.

Not long after that day, Holy Rome left to fight a war and never came back. Austria didn't cry though, not even when the house crumbled around him and he was left all alone. He didn't shed a single tear, he didn't even mourn. Life went on just as normal. He played piano, rode Pippin, bossed Italy and Hungary around, and fulfilled all his duties as a country.

After Holy Rome went missing, assumed dead, Austria went to war himself. He rode Pippin, charging into the fray as he led his army to defeat against Prussia. The beautiful white stallion was shot in the midst of a charge, sending them crashing to the ground where Prussia eventually found them long after the battle had ended.

Austria lay over the white stallion, its once brilliant white coat stained red with blood as it lay motionless in the mud. Though Austria himself seemed uninjured in the fall, the horse had died instantly after being shot. And Austria wept, burying his face in the horse's still neck and tangling his fingers in its white mane. He wept for the Lipizzaner, his favorite mount, and his last connection to the little blonde haired blue eyed empire that had loved the horse as much as he had.

And for once, instead of grabbing Austria by the collar and declaring how awesome he was to the man's face, laughing at how easily defeated he was, Prussia stood in silence. He stood several feet away from the fallen man and his horse, head bowed, and allowed his rival to mourn the little empire who even he had to admit, had vanished far too soon.

"I broke my promise, I let you fall," Austria sobbed into the stallion's coat, his trembling voice barely audible, "And I'm so, so sorry that I did."

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><p><strong>Almost posted this one as it's own separate one-shot due to its length, but decided not to. This is by far the longest of the stories so far. I apologize for it being depressing, I promise the next story will not hurt you! AmericaBritain scary stories up next! It'll be ok! I promise. Thanks so much for the reviews, and for the ideas! Keep em' coming! I love you people who added this to your favorites too! Much Love, and Thanks for Reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Fluff ahoy everybody! America/England here. I think next will be Japan/China, but I'm still looking for prompts! So if there's anything you'd like to see, or you have any ideas, I'm totally open! Thanks for the reviews and favs! And thanks muchly for reading!**

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><p>"Story Britain! You promised!"<p>

The blonde Englishman smiled fondly at his little colony as the boy wriggled down under his covers. He sat on the bed beside America, ruffling the boy's hair before smoothing it back into place, giving a gentle tug to the little cowlick that always stuck out.

"All right, just one story this time though. I want to go to sleep too!" he said. He thought for a moment, wondering what sort of story he should tell. Hallow's Eve was coming up shortly, perhaps a scary story would be fitting. America blinked up at him with wide blue eyes, waiting eagerly for whatever tale the blonde nation was going to tell him. "Have you ever heard of the East Wind, America?"

The little boy shook his head and England continued, "Ah, my brother's used to warn me about it. The East Wind is a terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. Little naughty boys get swept away when their parents aren't looking, and the East Wind carries them all the way to a desert island."

America's eyes were huge, "What happens to them there?" he asked, clutching at the covers a little.

England smiled darkly, "They get turned into donkeys! Then they get loaded into crates and sent down into the deepest, darkest, most haunted coal mines where they'll never see the sunshine again. And then the ghosts of other naughty boys who were turned into donkeys and died horrible bloody deaths come and make sure the same happens to the others."

"I won't get taken by the East Wind, right?" America whimpered, hiding slightly beneath the bed sheets.

To this Britain laughed, "Just don't do anything bad America! The East Wind only takes away naughty children!" With the story finished, he stood and blew out the candle by America's bedside, tucking the boy in and kissing his cheek, "Now be a good boy and go to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning all right?" He left the room then, shutting the door behind him without a second thought. America lay in the dark for a moment before getting comfortable and drifting off to sleep without even a second thought on the story he'd just been told.

Little America is woken up just after midnight by a particularly loud crash of thunder. He blinked sleepily, and was about to nod back to sleep when he noticed that the sheets felt wet. Sitting up abruptly, he threw the blankets away from himself and felt tears well up in his eyes at the sight of a prominent dark spot between his legs. He wet the bed again! Britain was going to be so angry with him!

Suddenly his window was flung open by a strong gust of wind, and America let out an ear-piercing scream. The East Wind! It was going to get him because he was a bad boy and wet the bed! He leapt from his bed and dashed across the room, throwing open the door and racing down to the brit's bedroom as though a murderer were chasing him down the hall with an ax. "ENGLAND!" America screamed, as though his limbs were being torn off and he were being stabbed.

He could practically imagine himself being a donkey already, with big ears and a tail. He didn't want to be a donkey! He wanted to be himself! America was stopped by England's door, which was locked. The child pounded his fists against the wood frantically, looking down the hall in the direction of his room and expecting a hand to come drag him away to the island for bad boys. "BRITAIN PLEASE SAVE ME!" America wailed.

The door finally opened and light streamed out into the hallway. England stood in his nightclothes, holding a candle and looking a little flustered. America wrapped himself around the brit's legs and sobbed heavily, his savior had come! The East Wind couldn't get him now that his big brother was watching.

"America! What on Earth is the matter?" England asked, kneeling down to the child's level. Had America been hurt? Was he sick? Had he had a bad dream? He'd never heard the child scream in such a way before, and it unnerved him slightly.

The little blonde sniffled, so hysterical he could barely string together a sentence, "I didn't mean to!" he cried. "I didn't mean to, and now I've been a bad boy and the East Wind is trying to get me!"

Only then did England realize that America's white nightgown was damp and he sighed, placing a comforting hand on America's head, "You wet the bed again?" he asked.

The child merely sniffled and nodded in response, causing the man to sigh, "It's all right America. It was only an accident, the East Wind won't get you for it. Let's get you cleaned up."

Taking America's hand, he leads the boy to the washroom and removed his soiled clothing before putting him into the bathtub. Soaking a cloth with warm water, he gently washes his little colony as the child continues to cry. Once he's clean, he wraps him up in a towel and carries him back towards his bedroom.

"Damn, it looks like that old latch finally broke," England remarked upon seeing the window, still open. America clings tightly to his nightshirt, burying his face into Britain's shoulder and whimpering. England hushed him as he hiccupped, "I've got you America; the East Wind won't get you."

He walked over to the dresser and took out some fresh clothing for America, casting a look at the bed. He'd have to change the sheets tomorrow morning, but he didn't have the energy to do it then. He wanted to go back to sleep so badly.

Pushing the window closed and trying to prop it so it wouldn't open again, he closed the door to the bedroom and carried America down the hall to his room. He set America on the bed, and quickly dressed him and brushed out his hair. The boy had stopped his sobbing, but tears still trickled down his plump cheeks and England felt a little guilty.

Picking up his colony a final time and cradling him, he sat on the bed and began sing softly to America. He sang every lullaby he knew, just as he had when he'd first won America from France. The little boy loved hearing the older nation sing, even though his voice wasn't the best. The tears soon stopped and America looked up at his caretaker sleepily.

Once he was sure his little one was no longer upset, England crawled into bed and under the covers, America joining him and nestling himself against the blonde's chest. Britain wrapped his arms around the little boy, hugging him close and kissing the top of his head to further soothe him. "Don't fret America, I'm here. No monster will get you while I'm around."

America hugged England back, burying his face in his big brother's chest. "Pwomise?" he asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of Britain's shirt.

"I promise."

There was a stretch of silence and England was about to fall asleep when America's voice piped up again. "Are you mad?"

"Mmmm" England hums, pulling America closer to him and not really wanting to give an answer. He was too tired to feel any emotions, and he only had a few more hours of blissful sleep left. He'd be damned if America took them away!

America took the humming as a no and smiled, snuggling contently into England's warm arms and falling asleep. Truthfully, England was rather annoyed that America was still wetting the bed. But after seeing just how precious the lad was, actually believing a monster would take him away because he'd had an accident, well England would just have to forgive him this one time.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, here's a chapter about Japan and China. Japan's kinda an interesting kid to write about, I liked writing this more than I thought I would. Anyway, some future chapters I want to write about are Prussia/Old Fritz, Iceland/Norway, and France/Seychelles. But I'm still open to other ideas. I'm also gonna repeat some pairings, so of course there'll be more America/England and stuff. I think the next chapter is gonna be able Sealand again, only this time I'll have Finland in it a bit more. I want to do a Sealand/England in the future as well. So, uh, yeah. Thanks for the Reviews and Favs, and Thanks for Reading!**

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><p>Japan was a strange child, at least in China's opinion. Most kids showed at least a little emotion but not this one. Japan didn't smile, he didn't laugh or cry, nothing! Most of the time the boy didn't even speak, and when he did it was only to China when it was just the two of them. He was so very shy, hiding in his room on the rare occasions there were guests and refusing to come out until they were gone. He didn't want cuddles or bedtime stories like most children, and he was absurdly independent. Even inventing his system of characters rather than using Chinese ones! And he enjoyed the simpler things in life like cherry blossoms more than many of the flashier toys China had given to him.<p>

China thought perhaps Japan was sick, his concern even drove him to bring Japan to the best doctors in the country to be tested. But after having him checked up, it seemed that there was absolutely nothing wrong. Japan was a totally healthy, happy, normal little boy. But China still had his doubts.

The only thing he could say was normal about Japan was the kid's curiosity and imagination. He often found the little one playing alone in the backyard, actually playing! And having full blown conversations with stuffed animals and people China couldn't see. Japan loved exploring the bamboo forests, which was where China had originally found him, and he also liked inventing things, including stories.

At dinner when it was just the two of them, Japan actually wouldn't shut up about his supposed adventures. China didn't mind though, it was so rare to hear the little country speak he never dared interrupt. He'd just sit at the table across from Japan, his cheek in his hand and a smile on his face. He'd listen as the little black haired boy rattled on about being a Norwegian prince, a famous opera tenor, a merman in the Pacific Ocean, a thief in Calcutta, a trainer for strange creatures that battled each other, and that was only to name a few of the things he said.

But Japan's adventures confused China as well. There was a certain amount of logic in each one, each story was so detailed and thought out that if China hadn't known better he almost would have thought them to be real. Japan invented his own logic sometimes, especially when he supposedly visited different worlds, but the logic wasn't far-fetched at all. It sounded so scientific and, well, real. Someday Japan would be an influential country, that much was blatantly clear to China. He was proud to be raising such a country, but he still wished Japan would be a normal little kid, at least once.

Today Japan had gone out exploring as usual, tripping over clothes that were a little too big for him. China had warned him to be careful as the kid went out the door, and Japan hadn't said anything in response as usual. Nothing was amiss, so China went about his business for the day not even giving a second thought to Japan until the sky began to grow dark. Strange, Japan was usually back well before dark.

"Japan?" China called into the yard, poking his head out. There was no answer, and China felt himself begin to grow worried. Where was the kid? Maybe he'd wandered too far into the forest and gotten eaten by a tiger? China didn't want to panic, but how was he supposed to find a kid that didn't call back when he called? He could be anywhere!

He decided to wait a little longer, and began making dinner. Maybe Japan had just gotten a little lost, but he always found his way back. Maybe he didn't realize how late it was. However when the sun set and there was still no sign of Japan, China began to worry very much.

Just when China was about to go out and look for him, the door opened and Japan walked in as though nothing had happened. He padded over to his spot at the table, crawling up into his seat and looking up expectantly at his caretaker with his wide brown eyes.

"Where have you been?" China demanded, placing his hands on his hips, "Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?"

Japan didn't even blink, "I am sorry China," was all he said. His voice sounded, different. China ran his eyes up and down the boy, but he could only see his upper half, the lower half was hidden by the table.

China shook his head and didn't comment, and instead placed Japan's dinner in front of him. He sat down in his usual spot across from the boy, and expected him to begin telling about his adventure. However Japan said nothing, and ate in silence. China's suspicions grew.

"So where were you today Japan?"

"Ah, I was just in the bamboo forest."

"No silly I mean what sort of game were you playing today?"

"I was just exploring," was all Japan replied. The conversation lapsed into silence, making China feel uncomfortable. Japan didn't seem bothered by it at all, but he never was bothered by much.

When dinner was over Japan got up, but winced as he did. China watched him like a hawk as he walked away from the table so that he could examine the kid's whole body. He did a double take at what he saw. "Japan stop right there!" he ordered, throwing the pots in the sink and rushing to the boy's side.

Japan's white pant leg was stained bright red with blood, and upon further inspection China found he'd split his knee open very badly. "What happened to you?"

"I fell," was all the boy replied, bowing his head as though ashamed to confess it.

Chine put his hands on the kid's shoulders, forcing him to look up at him, "And you didn't tell me? How long have you been hurt?" he asked.

The little boy refused to meet his big brother's gaze, "I didn't want to be a burden. I tripped on my way home and fell down a hill. It took me some time to find the path back home again," he explained flatly. That was when China noticed it, and he felt more shocked about this discovery than he did about Japan's injury.

Japan was crying, it was hardly even noticeable, the kid's voice didn't even crack as he spoke. But two tear tracks were clearly visible on the boy's cheeks. China picked Japan up, placed him on his hip, and wordlessly carried him to the bathroom. All the while Japan's face remained as expressionless as usual, except for the tears continuing to leak their way from his eyes.

China cleaned the gash as carefully and gently as he could. Japan stared at the wall as he did, and only flinched from the pain once when China poured some alcohol on the wound. "You're not a burden Japan, if you ever need anything ever don't be afraid to ask me," China said, breaking the silence as he dabbed at the wound. It was a deep gash and China was amazed that the kid hadn't reacted to it at all, not even limping!

When Japan didn't respond, he continued, "It is not weak to cry you know. It hurts to fall down, and everybody falls down so you have nothing to be embarrassed about." He began wrapping a bandage around the knee and Japan sniffled audibly, causing China to look up.

Japan still didn't speak, but he didn't need to. It was clear enough from the expression on his face that he'd heard what China had said, and taken it to heart. He wasn't crying because of the pain, he was crying because he was embarrassed that he'd fallen and needed help. He thought he was weak. China finished bandaging his knee quickly before picking up the boy and hugging him to his chest tightly. "You're such a bright kid Japan, but you're so silly sometimes."

The boy still didn't answer, but instead gripped China's shirt tightly and buried his face in his shoulder, letting out a single sob that tore at China's heart. Being careful not to jostle his hurt leg too much, China carried little Japan out to their back porch and sat down on the ledge with him, cradling him as he cried. "I love you Japan, I don't want anything to happen to you. It's not weak to ask for help if you need it. Only the smartest and bravest countries ask for help, which is what you'll be someday won't you? So if you ever fall down again, you tell me so I can help you. Ok?"

Silence, China chuckled, "Ok that's a yes then. Good. Now cheer up Japan, tomorrow how about you and I go out together? The cherry blossoms should be blooming any day now, and we can buy some tuna for dinner. Your favorite!"

Finally Japan lifted his face from China's shoulder and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes. China smiled brightly down at his little country, swiping away the last of his tears with his thumb before kissing his forehead lightly. Japan still didn't say a word, but the small smile he offered his big brother in return said everything he needed to.


	8. Chapter 8

Sealand had a pretty good grasp on the Finnish and Swedish languages. In fact many of the other countries were surprised at world meetings to see that the kid could hold up an impressive conversation with both Finland and Sweden in their native languages. Sweden in particular preferred to speak to his 'son' in Swedish at meetings, keeping their conversation private as he gently told Sealand to stop fidgeting in his seat if he wished to stay so he didn't embarrass him in front of the other nations. But Sealand's vocabulary was somewhat limited, in that everything he'd ever learned of the languages, he'd learned from a Disney movie.

When he was very little England used to sit him down in front of Disney films all the time, so Sealand could recite just about every classical Disney animated film on the planet from beginning to end in English. When he moved in with Sweden, he found out that his papa had vhs tapes of all the movies he was familiar with, however instead of them being in English, they were all in Swedish. Except for a few, which were in Finnish.

There wasn't much else for Sealand to watch, so every evening he would sit down in front of the t.v. with a foreign version of one of the films he knew so well and he'd watch it. Tonight he'd decided to watch the Finnish version of Bambi, and once he'd eaten all his dinner he made his way into the living room, put the tape in, and sat down to watch.

Of all Disney films, Bambi was one that Sealand had actually never seen before. It was difficult to find for some reason, and Sweden seemed reluctant to show it to him. He said it would upset him, but Sealand firmly stated he was a grown up. England always called him a crybaby but he was totally not one! Today at Finland's house he'd found Bambi, and now he was ready to prove Sweden and England totally wrong. Sweden couldn't stop him because he had left on business the day before and wasn't supposed to be back until later tonight.

Finland poked his head in as Sealand was settling himself on the floor in front of the television. "What're you watching tonight, Sealand?" he asked curiously.

Sealand turned to look at him, holding up the cover of the tape he'd chosen.

Finland's eyes lit up immediately, "Aw! That's my favorite movie!" He came in and sat on the couch behind the little boy, "Come sit with me on the couch Sealand, watching the movie that close to the screen is bad for your eyes!" he said. Sealand scooted back, and then hopped up on the couch next to Finland as the commercials went through.

"Why's it your favorite?" he asked curiously.

"Because the animals are all so cute!" Finland replied with a smile, "And the songs are so pretty!"

Sealand blinked, surprised. Papa had told him the movie would upset him, yet what was upsetting about pretty songs and fluffy animals? The movie started up with opening credits, like nearly every old Disney movie he'd ever seen. Finland smiled and sang right along with the opening, he knew every word by heart and Sealand smiled. Finland had a really pretty voice.

As the movie progressed, Sealand found himself almost bored. Yeah, there were lots of fluffy animals and pretty songs, but nothing was really happening. It was just a baby deer with his mama and friends, playing in meadows and exploring the forests. There was a catching song about the rain, one which Sealand thought was a little catchy but otherwise was a little childish. What was so bad about this movie?

Things changed as winter came, and they began to get hungry. Finland grabbed a nearby pillow and hugged it to his chest, watching intently as Bambi's mama found some new spring grass for them to eat. Sealand watched, almost bored and not really expecting what came next.

Hunters had come before in the film, but they'd gotten away. As Bambi and his mama dashed off the meadows, Sealand expected the same results. But still, he sat on the edge of his seat and couldn't stop his eyes from widening as Bambi ran off alone, a gunshot echoing in the distance.

"We made it! We made it mother!" Bambi said triumphantly in Finnish as he reached their home. Sealand felt his eyes begin to water and he blinked it away. It was just a kid's movie! Bambi stepped out into the forest as it began to snow, he was all alone! He was an orphan! Sealand took a shaky breath as Bambi called for his mother again, running through the forest as it grew dark. The forest was so big, and Bambi was so small.

Sealand began to put himself in Bambi's position. What if the same thing happened to Finland? Or Sweden? He'd be all alone in the big world, who'd tuck him in at night? Or play futball with him? He scrubbed furiously at his eyes as tears began flowing freely down his cheeks. "Finny!" he choked out, "I don't like this movie!"

Pausing the film, Finland turned to Sealand and smiled gently at him, pulling the boy into his lap and letting him cry into his sweater. "It's just a movie Sealand! It has a happy ending I promise!"

"Yeah, but I miss papa! What if he doesn't come back? I don't wanna be an orphan!" He burst into a fresh wave of sobs, clinging to Finland's shirt tightly and burying his face in the soft fabric.

Finland rocked him gently, pressing his face into the boy's blonde hair, and hushed him. Sweden had only gone to sign some trade paperwork! "Just a movie Sealand, Mr. Sweden will be back before you know it!" he told him reassuringly.

When Sealand had calmed down, Finland started the movie again and a ridiculously cheerful song began to play. Sealand hiccupped as tears continued to trickle down his cheeks, still holding tightly to the other nation, but turned his head to watch the rest of the film from the safety of the older nation's arms.

Bambi grew up ok, and he got a girlfriend and there was another song. Finland hummed along to it, and told Sealand how he and Sweden used to sing the duet back and forth with each other in their own languages back when the film had first come out. Sealand told him he wanted to hear it someday. As the film began to finish, with a happy ending just as Finaland had promised, the little blonde nation began to fall asleep.

"Finny?"

"Ya?"

"We can wait for Papa to come back right? I don't wanna go to bed without him."

Finland nodded, pressing a light kiss to the top of Sealand's head, "We can wait right here for him to get back if you'd like."

So they did, they sat and waited on the couch for Sweden to return. For a while Finland watched the news quietly on the t.v., but eventually turned it off and sat in the dark with Sealand bundled in his arms when he was too tired to pay much attention to it. He'd felt the child go limp in his arms not long after the movie had ended and knew he'd fallen asleep. Finland felt he was going to follow soon after if Sweden didn't get back soon.

Finally he heard the soft click of the front door closing, and a few moments later Sweden was standing in the doorway. He approached quietly and sat down on the couch next to Finland, who smiled at him.

"How're things?" Sweden asked quietly, reaching out to run a hand through the boy's hair.

"It was all right, he got a bit upset at the movie we watched though. He cried for you," Finland explained.

Sweden ran his hand down the boy's back, "Ws Bambi wsn't it?"

When Finland nodded Sweden merely hummed. "You look tired, I think we should all go to bed now," Finland told Sweden, yawning as he did so. He nudged Sealand gently, who blinked sleepily before noticing his papa had come back.

He reached a hand out to him, which Sweden took before lifting the boy out of his 'wife's' lap and into his own, cradling him against his chest. "I missed you, Papa!" Sealand told him tiredly, hugging him as tightly as his tired arms would allow him.

Sweden squeezed him gently, "Mssed ya too," he replied. "Tme fr bed. Say g'night to Fnland."

Sealand looked over at Finland, "G'night Finny."

Finland smiled before leaning over and kissing Sealand's forehead, "Goodnight Sealand. Pleasant dreams," he told him.

Sweden stood then, carrying Sealand as carefully as he could to bed. Finland trudged up the stairs after them, disappearing into his room with final sleepy goodnight. Sweden walked them to the guest room next door, and sets to changing Sealand into his pajamas before tucking him into bed. He pressed a gentle kiss to Sealand's forehead on the same spot as Finland before sitting beside him and running a hand through his blonde hair.

"Papa?"

"Ja?"

"Jag älskar dig."

"Jag älskar dig också."

Sealand closed his eyes and was just about to drift to sleep when he thought of something else. "Papa?"

"Ja?"

"Finland sa att du brukade sjunga duetten från filmen med honom."

It was a good thing it was dark and Sealand was half asleep, because Sweden actually blushed. He stood up and began preparing himself for bed, "Lite. Jag är inte en mycket bra sångare."

Sealand smiled, "Jag vill höra det ändå."

By then Sweden had changed into his pajamas and set his glasses on the night table beside the bed. He climbed in beside Sealand, lying on his side facing the small principality. "Du kommer."

"Löfte?"

"Jag lovar," Sweden replied, reaching out and pulling Sealand close to him. Sealand clung to him tightly, almost afraid that like Bambi's mother, one minute he'd be there and one minute he'd simply disappear forever. But his Papa was so strong and solid, like the furniture he made. Still, anything could happen, and that scared Sealand worse than anything.

"Sealand. 'm not goin anywhere," the larger blonde assured him.

The little boy let out a breath, feeling safe in his Papa's strong arms. "I know," Sealand replied softly. And deep down in his heart, he did know. Not even the end of the world could tear them apart.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Gutters reference at the end... please don't hate me. So uh, yeah, if you're curious as to what version of Bambi they were watching, it's the 2005 Finnish dub. There's clips of it on youtube, pretty good. All the Swedish dubs are on there too, so if your curious as to what his version would sound like you can find that too. **

**Next chapter is going to be Iceland/Norway, followed by Latvia/Russia. I'm still open for suggestions, eventually I wanna do one with Sealand/England, but not too soon since this chapter was about Sealand. So, feel free to message me or leave a review! Thanks everybody for reading! :)**


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